


A Rare Proposal

by Lokne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Courting Rituals, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Genderswap, Grief/Mourning, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Snarky Draco Malfoy, sentient magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokne/pseuds/Lokne
Summary: Halthia arranged her ebony hair atop her head with a few whispered words. Her fingers tightened around her polished Holly wand, and her breath caught on the last word, almost getting stuck in her throat. She ignored the brief and consuming wave of grief that swept over her, and firmly pushed it into the recesses of her mind.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/female Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 414





	A Rare Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> A repost of an old fic of mine.

Halthia arranged her ebony hair atop her head with a few whispered words. Her fingers tightened around her polished Holly wand, and her breath caught on the last word, almost getting stuck in her throat. She ignored the brief and consuming wave of grief that swept over her, and firmly pushed it into the recesses of her mind. She placed the delicate hair beads given to her by Sirius on her fourteenth birthday and secured them in the curls, making them shimmer in the morning light. Halthia smiled at the stunning effect. Sirius had been right—as always—her hair looked like the night sky twinkling with stars.

“Are you done admiring yourself?” Hermione asked almost acerbically. “You’ll be tardy, and there’s no such thing as being fashionably late for breakfast.”

Halthia shot Hermione a reproachful look. If she hadn’t known better she would have thought Hermione had taken verbal sparring lessons from Professor Snape. Professor Snape refused to call her by Lady Black, even though it was her right. The derogatory way he pronounced  _ Potter _ resulted in her refusing to answer in class, and caused the feud between their families to become even more severe, though she doubted Professor Snape remembered or even cared for such things.

“If you are tired of waiting, go without me,” she retorted. She had explained her new responsibilities that she had gained when Sirius— _ died— _ two years ago. If Hermione wasn’t willing to accept her new station and actions that followed, then she should stop harassing Halthia and just leave. 

Halthia enjoyed spending time with Hermione, truly she did, but the hours of nagging about barbaric ancient traditions, and stupid laws grated on her nerves. She was already high strung this morning due to the nightmares last night. She really didn’t want to get into another row with her best friend.

“I’ll wait.” Hermione heaved a sighed and plopped on her messy bed. If anyone thought that Hermione would be neat and tidy they would be surprised at the devastation her side of the room had become over the years. She was diligent in her school work and nothing more.

Halthia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her friend’s antics and opened the engraved trunk at the end of her bed. She instinctively reached for a pair of black silk gloves and paused as she fingered the delicate fabric. Her eyes danced over the shadows toward the chunky silver ring inlaid with a large sapphire. Sirius’s ring. Now hers. She knew that it would shrink if she decided to wear it today. She stared at the deep blue gem as her fingers twitched with the repressed desire to place it on her right ring finger. Not yet, not today. She grabbed the gloves and slammed the trunk.

“Are you okay?” 

Halthia glanced up and smiled. No. But Hermione didn’t need to know that. It was a blessing that Hermione had no idea what the ring represented. She knew that if Hermione ever figured it out—she had seen Hermione researching pureblood traditions that involved rings three months ago—Hermione would inform her that it was foolish of her not to wear it.

Hermione was wrong.

Halthia sighed as she felt the material slide over her hands. They had felt too bare before. She looked in the mirror to make sure that she looked presentable, and glanced away when she noticed how bright her green eyes were against the black and silver of her robes. Her fingers clenched into claws before she could stop them. Was it insane to hate the color of your eyes? She wished they were gray, like Sirius’s were. 

She swallowed down the guilt that came with the thought. Her eyes were the only connection that she had to her birth mother, and yet, Sirius had raised her. He had been her family. Even though her surname had been Potter, she defiantly refused to answer unless someone addressed her as ‘Black’. 

She grabbed her school bag and entered the common room without answering Hermione’s initial question. She wasn’t in the mood to chat about nonsensical things. She was tired of everyone around her acting as if she would break at any moment. She wasn’t fragile—not anymore.

Halthia smiled politely, if a little coldly, at the few people who greeted her, and walked toward the Great Hall. Her mind wandered as she thought about this morning. What had drawn her eyes to the ring? It had been months since she had even thought about its significance. For the past two years without hesitation she would pull a pair of black silk gloves from her trunk every morning. Something had changed. The thought niggled at her mind, drawing her attention away from her friend who chattered beside her. Halthia was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed the sudden deafening silence that permeated the hallway.

“What do you want, Smoot?” Hermione demanded.

Halthia stared at the boy that had appeared from nowhere, as if he had dramatically removed an invisibility cloak. Smoot? She gave a mental wince. That was a very sad name. She hoped for his sake that it wasn’t his given name.

“I wanted to ask Lady Black if I may have a moment of her time before breakfast,” Smoot said.

Halthia’s heart plummeted. Did he really just ask for ‘a moment of her time’? A snide curse rested on the tip of her tongue. She knew it wouldn’t cause much pain, only be mildly humiliating. Surely Sirius would forgive her for her breach of misconduct. 

“No.” 

The tension in the hall rose a few degrees, though Halthia paid it no mind. The anger that had been bubbling to the surface calmed when she felt Draco Malfoy’s magic flare in challenge. 

Smoot’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t—”

“The answer is no. She is not interested. And I  _ kindly _ suggest that you do not pursue the matter further if you wish to leave your family honor intact.” Draco smirked. “Lady Black, you look ravishing as always. Are those hair beads new, perhaps?”

Halthia glanced at Draco with masked confusion. Draco knew that they had been a gift from Sirius. She reached up and touched the twinkling jewels. A gasp drew her attention away from Draco and toward the young man who was now pale.

Smoot bowed. “My apologies, Lady Black.”

Halthia still didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t going to allow that to show on her face. “Of course. . .”

“Heir,” Draco murmured.

“Heir Smoot,” Halthia smoothly continued. She silently thanked Draco for his assistance. She hadn’t even known if Smoot had a title. She waited until he had left their presence before she turned to Draco to demand answers. 

“Are they still silk?” he asked.

Halthia was used to Draco starting conversations in the middle. She didn’t understand why, but whenever they talked, he would always begin as if they had already had part of the conversation. “Are what still silk?”

“Your mourning gloves.”

Halthia gazed at him with befuddlement. Of course he was talking about her gloves. She had chosen silk because Sirius loved the fabric more than any other. He said other fabrics were too coarse and unrefined. They chaffed his skin and made him feel less than he was. So after Sirius’s funeral, she hadn’t thought twice about what fabric her mourning gloves would be.

It was a tradition dating back centuries that many of the older pureblood families kept. When a loved one died, the remaining unbonded females would don black gloves for a year. It was an ensign that they would not be accepting bonding proposals, until they were past their grief and mourning. The tradition required was only a year, but Halthia had worn them for two.

Halthia caught a flash of something in his eyes, but couldn’t discern what it was. She sighed and took a small step away. “Yes.” 

Draco nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “I trust you will be careful. Not everyone holds traditions as high as we do.” Hermione snorted, eliciting an icy glare. 

Halthia smiled at his concern. She had been an absolute wreck after Sirius’s death. For months, her magic would lash out. If it hadn’t been for Professor McGonagall’s foresight to pair them together on an assignment, she was positive that her control would have declined even more. 

When her magic had lashed out, his had responded. Draco hadn’t tried to overpower her as Hermione said almost every time Draco was mentioned. He had simply given her magic something to pound and rage against. She had lost her only remaining family member, so of course her magic was off-kilter and enraged. Only Draco had calmed her magic and allowed her to mourn for Sirius without wallowing in self-pity.

She let her magic lightly touch his, letting him know that she understood his concern. She knew that it was probably worse than cursing Smoot in public, but she needed it. Halthia needed to know that he was there and that he wasn’t going to leave her.

Cold washed over her. She allowed Hermione to lead her by the arm to the Gryffindor table. Normally she would have pulled her arm away, but she felt as if she needed the help. She loved Draco Malfoy. For how long she wasn’t sure, but she did.

He protected her from unwanted suitors and made her smile and laugh. His magic helped her through the toughest time of her life. His gray eyes, different from Sirius’s, made her want to live again. Draco made her want to remove the silk gloves and show the world her bare hands for the first time in years.

She looked at the Slytherin table with her heart in her throat. Without hesitation her gaze fell on Draco, talking and eating with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The dark blue trim on his robes enhanced his handsome looks. Ever since she discovered that dark blue was one of his family colors, she had fallen in love with it.

Halthia took a bite of buttered toast and choked. The ring. She had been drawn to the ring because it reminded her of Draco. She took a quick sip of pumpkin juice and set the rest of the piece down. 

“Halthia, are you listening?” Hermione asked.

Halthia placed her trembling hands in her lap, wondering if she was blowing everything out of proportion. A deep chuckle rent the air and she knew instinctively that it was Draco. No. She wasn’t. 

“Halthia, I know that Malfoy has helped you these past few years,” Hermione started, “and you might feel—”

“I love him.” Halthia whispered so softly, Hermione almost didn’t hear it.

Hermione remained silent and nodded. “Okay. But be careful. Because if he hurts you, I’ll lock him in the closet on the fifth floor. There’s a boggart in there and I bet Malfoy could use the practice to perfect his Patronus.”

Halthia shuddered. She had hated boggarts since her third year at Hogwarts and knew that fear wouldn’t leave anytime soon. 

“Are you going to wait for—?” Hermione gasped when Halthia shook her head.

“I can’t wait that long, Hermione. It would be better for me to know than to pine from afar like a wilting flower.” Halthia knew she would be taking an immense risk, but she was sure of her affection toward him. She needed to know. If he didn’t . . . she didn’t want to think about that possible outcome.

“Wait. I thought pureblood ladies weren’t allowed to declare their intentions,” Hermione said under the din of conversation.

“It’s outdated, but not unheard of. And you’re forgetting one thing, Hermione. I’m the daughter of two Marauders.” Halthia grinned mischievously for the first time in years. 

***

Halthia glanced in her trunk and carefully removed the ring. She caressed the stone and the intricate etchings in the metal. Could she really do this? Yesterday she had declared to Hermione that she would essentially propose to Draco. It was rare in pureblood culture. 

She wasn’t even sure of Draco’s affection. Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe he just found her witty and charming. After all, most pureblood witches were inane, vapid things that only cared about securing themselves a rich husband. 

_ “You’re just in denial, Pup. You still think that you can’t have anything, when in fact you can have everything.” _

Halthia smiled as Sirius’s voice echoed in her mind. She knew Sirius hadn’t been talking about Draco when he said that, but she didn’t care. For the last year she had denied herself happiness because of grief and guilt. She shouldn’t have run off to the Ministry that night. Sirius shouldn’t have died. But he did. And it was time to move on. She would always miss Sirius, but she knew he wouldn’t want her to mourn him for one more day. She slipped the ring into her robe pocket and shut the lid, avoiding the dark abyss of her black mourning gloves. 

When she got to the Owlery, she dropped the ring into an envelope and sealed it with the Black House seal. She handed it to Hedwig and quickly gave her instructions before she changed her mind. As the snowy owl flew out the tower window, doubt seized her, making it hard to breathe. 

Halthia knew that if she entered the Great Hall for breakfast without her gloves and wearing Sirius’s ring, it would allow suitors to start vying for her attention immediately. However, since she was only san gloves no one would be able to formally ask her until tomorrow. A small comfort. She knew that not wearing her mourning gloves would circulate the school in a matter of minutes.

Draco would receive an envelope that he wasn’t expecting ten minutes after she entered the Great Hall. If he accepted her proposal—because that was what it was—he would place the ring on his right ring finger. 

She would still take his name when they bonded, but everyone would always know that she had asked him. Draco, while sweet at times, had his pride. Would her offer of bonding be enough for him to cast it aside? She uncharacteristically nibbled her lips. Perhaps she should have waited and hoped that he would notice and return her affection, but she was tired of losing the people she loved. If he rejected her offer then she knew he wasn’t worth waiting for. Pain stabbed her at the thought.

“Halthia, did you send it?” Hermione asked, almost bouncing alongside her when they met again in the main hall.

Halthia nodded. Her hands felt bare and weird. She hadn’t realized how much she had come to rely on her gloves. They had been a shield and a protection and now she felt vulnerable. In less than half an hour, Draco would know of her intention and she would know his. 

“Lady Black, good morning,” Draco said.

Halthia’s hand shook as she forced herself to hold out her hand, palm down. It had been two years since she had last performed this tradition. Her hand hung in the air for a few seconds, as Draco stared at her with shock. He quickly regained his composure and brought her knuckles to his lips in a light kiss.

Her hand tingled at the contact and her breath caught in her chest. There was no going back; she had already made the first step. By offering Draco her bare hand she had declared that she was permitting courtship offers tomorrow. Halthia mentally scoffed. Only moments ago she had made a more terrifying decision, and yet she was shaking like a leaf in the wind. What must he think of her?

“Heir Malfoy, good morning.” She wanted to say more to him, but wasn’t able to speak. 

Halthia walked to the Gryffindor table amid rumors and whispers. She felt weak and she hated it. Halthia didn’t bother loading her plate with food. She wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. She kept her eyes on her plate until she heard the screech of the owls. Her eyes jumped to Draco, unsurprised to find him already watching her. 

Hedwig landed in front of Draco and extended her foot. Halthia wanted to tear her eyes away from him, but she couldn’t. A few curious people who tried to look in the envelope backed off when Draco glared. He emptied the contents of the envelope into his hand and stared at it. 

Halthia waited. And waited. And waited. 

Had she been wrong?

Piercing gray eyes locked onto her, spearing her to the bench. She refused to budge. If he rejected her, then she wanted to see it—every horrible moment. Draco smirked and placed the ring on his right ring finger, his eyes never leaving her gaze. He said a few words to Nott and Zabini and nodded toward her. He waltzed over to the Gryffindor table and gracefully sank into the empty space next to her.

“If I had known you were going to propose to me during breakfast, I would have dressed for the occasion.”

Halthia blurted words before she could stop herself. “You look perfect.” She had learned very early in their friendship that any sort of compliments made his ego swell. 

Draco’s smirk widened. “Perfect. Hmm. I like the sound of that. We’re having a summer bonding, of course.”

“Spring. You are wearing my ring after all,” she said, unwilling to let him get the upper hand. “Your mother will be thrilled.”

When they had been children, Narcissa had read them a bedtime story where the woman proposed. Draco had adamantly declared that he would never accept such a proposal because it was the man’s duty. Narcissa scolded him to ‘never say never’, and that it would serve him right if that happened to him when he grew older.

Draco chuckled. “I’m wearing your ring, but you’ll take my name.”

Halthia felt warmth rush through her. She glanced at the ring sitting innocently on his right hand and envisioned the future and all that it could hold. She pictured teasing, laughter, gray eyes and dark heads, the sound of small feet and the promise of a lifetime of love. 

Halthia Malfoy. She had never heard anything more beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr if you’re interested.


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